Coming Up for Air
by aliciawrites
Summary: CHAPTER FOUR IS UP! Whoo hooo! Get ready folks, it's going to be a bumpy ride. Post ATY - Vaughn's alive, but he's got issues, now Syd does too.
1. Family Business

**COMING UP FOR AIR**

_Disclaimer_: JJ, the rights are solely in your possession. I am but a flicker of light bouncing off the brilliance that is you (Of course if you kill off Vaughn I will hunt you down and make you scream like Will Tippin.)

_Author's Note_: I plan on creating a series that will run throughout the summer. I apologize to those who have read my prior work. I neglected to tie up some loose ends because it became difficult for me after the "true" storyline began shifting. With this series and the summer hiatus, I think I will have plenty of time to do some world building. I hope you'll enjoy it. 

_Rating_: This Chapter is rated PG. Future chapters may be labeled anywhere from PG to NC-17. 

_Achieve_: Feel free but please let me know where I can find it. 

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**  
CHAPTER ONE:  
FAMILY BUSINESS**

Will Tippin hurried in the footsteps of Jack Bristow. The alley was dark and damp and every shadowy corner held promise of more unspeakable terror. "Where are we going?"

Jack barely glanced back as he spoke. "Sydney didn't report in. Something's gone wrong."

"Do you know where to find her?" Will asked.

"No."

"Then where are where are we going?"

Jack halted in his tracks and Will came inches from bulldozing into him. "Sydney risked everything for you tonight. She may already be considered a traitor to her country. Not to mention her life is in jeopardy. We're going into the lion's den."

Will's eyes widened. "Going back? We can't go back! Do you have any idea what that madman did to me?"

Jack stared him down, his patience running thin. "What happened to you this evening was unfortunate, but for people like us it's just an unfortunate fringe benefit of the job. Next time you see Sydney, ask her how she enjoyed your friend the dentist. He extracted a molar for her last year."

Will's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Sydney had endured the same torture. Not only that but there had likely been many other excruciating moments in her past. For that matter, she could be suffering at the hands of another right now. "Lead the way."

Jack barely nodded, turned on his heel and walked briskly away with Will in tow.

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"I'm sorry we had to meet like this, Sydney." Irina said, approaching her slowly. "It's been a long time."

Sydney could barely look at her. It was painful to rest eyes on a woman who could be responsible for such horror. Her mind reeled with all the evil that had been attributed to "The Man."

"You know about the prophecy," Syd whispered. 

Irina nodded, bending down to Sydney's level. "I'm sorry that they mistook you for me. At least you got to see the mountain. I've heard it's beautiful. Of course, I've never been."

"Why?" It was a simple question, but there were a thousand nuances to it. Why did you leave me? Why didn't you love me? Why did you hurt dad? Why did you send Noah? Why did you kidnap Will? Why are you bent on destroying everything I love? Why Vaughn?

"There are so many things for us to discuss, Sydney. This is not the way I would like for us to begin our re-acquaintance. All I can tell you, as you well know, is everything is not always as it appears. I think if you reflect on everything you know about "The Man" you will see that I have never intentionally caused pain or suffering to gain ground."

Sydney's head snapped up. "Look at me."

Irina looked directly at her daughter. 

"I want you to look into my eyes, mom. Take as long as you need, but look deeply. Then tell me what you see." Several moments passed as mother and daughter stared at one another. Sydney's face was stone. Irina's façade cracked marginally as she studied the familiar eyes. 

"Do you see pain?" Sydney asked. "Do you see suffering?" 

Irina broke contact and stood abruptly. "It will pass. When you know the truth, the pain will pass."

Sydney could not suppress the look of disgust. "Even if tomorrow the pope were to canonize you a saint, I would suffer. I've lost everything because of you. My childhood was a lie. You made my father into a shell of the man he could have been. My fiancé was murdered because I was drawn into your game. I've betrayed my closest friends. You enlisted Noah into you plan and brought about his downfall by my own hands." Sydney swallowed back the burgeoning tears. "And now Vaughn."

Irina walked toward the door. "Time, Sydney. You will have to give it time." 

"Thanks to you, that's all I have left."

Just as she was about to exit, Sark came into the doorway. "We have visitors." 

Sydney looked at Sark, hoping he would give her some indication of whom they had captured. 

"I'll return soon." Irina said, glancing backwards. For an instant, Sydney saw remorse n her face, but it quickly faded and Sark led her to her captives. 

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Jack Bristow struggled with the thick rope that bound his hands behind the crude wooden chair. The binds were tight, but certainly not impenetrable. In time, he could free himself. Certainly, his captor knew this. 

"You won't be here long, Jack. Don't waste your energy." 

The voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard to him. A sound he had long ago banished from his brain it caused him such discomfort to hear. 

"So, it's you. I should have seen it sooner. It all makes perfect sense now." She stood in the shadowed recess of the room. He preferred it that way. He did not want to see her.

"Sydney is fine. You must know I wouldn't harm her." Irina said, quietly.

"Must I?" Jack spat. "Should I think of you as some charitable heart that would never harm a fly, let alone your own daughter. Or do you forget that I know the treachery your capable of?" 

She stepped into the light and he saw her face. It was lined slightly with times inevitable mark, yet she was exactly the same. The mask of the sweet Laura he knew had been removed. When he looked at her now all he saw was Irina. 

"I'm glad to see she has you looking after her, Jack. You wouldn't allow her to skin her knee as a child without being there to scoop her off the playground pavement. She's fortunate to have you." Jack could not look at her. Memories of being a true father to Sydney felt like someone was wrapping their fist around his heart. 

"What are you doing with Tippin?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

"He's safe. I have some of my people administering some sedatives, cleaning him up a bit." She almost smiled. A smile? Was he supposed to be grateful that she was cleaning up the mess she made?

"Torturing Sydney's friend was not pleasant for me," she continued. "Perhaps my dentist's tactics are a little extreme, but it was important that I know he was as naive as he claimed for Sydney's sake." 

Jack took her in, full face. "Don't you dare propose to do anything for Sydney's sake. If you want to do something for your daughter, drive yourself off another bridge." 

Irina was slightly rocked by his bitterness. "I deserve that," she said, "but as I told Sydney, in time you will see that there is more at stake here."

"I want to see her."

Irina nodded without a word. "I'll have you reunited."

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Overwhelming sadness draped Sydney like a burial shroud. There was nothing left in her life to care about. Everyone she touched had been victimized in some way by the horrific chain of events begun by her mother. Now Vaughn was dead. The only person in her life she trusted completely. The only man in her life she'd ever been herself with was gone. 

In her mind she kept reviewing those last moments. What had made him return to the lab? Why didn't he wait for her at their rendezvous location? His eyes, pleading with her to run to leave him behind before she met a similar fate. Even as he was drowning he thought of her well-being. There was no panic in his eyes, only concern for her. He'd risked his career to follow her. He left everything he'd ever worked for behind because he believed in her. 

The people in her life that stood beside her did so out of circumstance. They didn't choose the path it chose them. Vaughn had been the only one to walk with her blindly. 

Sloane, SD-6, The Man, Rambaldi, all of them be damned. If she found a way out from underneath her mother's grasp she would call it quits. She didn't even know who the enemy was anymore. A look in the mirror might reveal they'd been keeping company all along.

The door to her one room hovel open and Jack stumbled in, his hands tied crudely at his stomach. 

"Dad?" her voice broke. 

He stood before her the words escaping him. What did one say when your daughter has discovered that her mother is the root of all evil? 

Tears slid silently down Sydney's cheeks. The sight of her father, the memories and the overwhelming desire to be held by him suffocating her senses. "Dadhow did we miss it? All of this evil, tied to us both all along." 

Jack sank to his knees in front of her. "You must separate yourself from it, Sydney. It's the only way to survive."

"Will? Did you get him out?" she asked. 

Jacked nodded. "He's safe."

"And the Circumference?" Jack asked. 

"Destroyed." She swallowed hard and pleaded silently with her tears to keep them at bay. "Dad Vaughn"

A look of pain crossed Jack Bristow's face, quickly replaced with resolve. "He followed his instincts. He couldn't have lived with standing idly by."

"But he would have lived," she sobbed. "If I'd never walked into his office. If I'd never told him about mom. If mom had never killed his father."

Jack raised his bound hand and placed them gently against his daughter's cheek. The touch was so intimate from the man she'd distanced her heart from that she could barely contain the instant stream of tears. 

"Vaughn did what his father never could. He died with pride. You gave that to him." 

Sydney nodded and briefly rested her cheek against Jack's hands. She didn't agree. She couldn't agree, but she appreciated his attempt at rectifying her mistakes. 

"How are we going to get out of here?" she asked. 

Before Jack could answer, Irina did it for him. "As soon as your friend is well enough to travel, you're free to go." 

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She had been warned repeatedly by Jack, Devlin, Weiss, everyone, not to attend. Yet nothing anyone said seemed to matter anymore. She was no longer living by their rules. 

As she watched the mourners gather, she reflected on the recent past. There were no safe places anymore. The truth was teetering on the ledge of a mammoth skyscraper. Sydney felt sure it was about topple with the slightest wind. 

The CIA had managed to hold the story on SD-6, indicating that while Will had in fact stumbled across something of importance, it was a matter of national security. They convinced his editor that revealing the details Will had uncovered would jeopardize thousands of lives. They weren't exactly lying.

The loss of the Rambaldi page had affected Sloane deeply. He had been in a subterranean funk, almost as low as Sydney's own, since her return from Taipei. Thankfully, he suspected that "The Man" had somehow infiltrated his system. Strangely Dixon had not led him to believe otherwise.

Nonetheless, Sydney and Jack were walking on eggshells everywhere they went these days. Even the CIA was skeptical about the fate of the mole. It wasn't until her dad revealed a tape of his "interrogation" of Haldaki that Devlin believed his story. It was difficult for him to overlook Jack's tactics, but he did. Temporarily.

She watched from across the cemetery as the uniformed military personnel presented arms and rang out a seven-gun salute, as they folded the patriotic colors into a perfect triangle and handed it to the woman sitting between Weiss and Devlin. 

His mother. Her heart leaped to her throat. What pain she must have endured! Her husband and now her son, both lost to causes she could never understand. Causes that Sydney herself no longer understood. 

Devlin spoke to the group in black, but she could not hear his words. Surely, he spoke of Vaughn's commitment to his country, his heroism. It was easy to pay tribute to man who could no longer speak for himself. They could rewrite his history. They could make him a patriot. 

The crowd began to diminish. Devlin shook Mrs. Vaughn's hand and walked away. Weiss stood with her and held her arm as she approached the coffin. She lay a white rose on it's shiny mahogany top, kissed her gloved hands and touched it solidly, saying a final goodbye. 

She watched as he helped her into the car. He shut the door and signaled for the driver to pull away. His own CIA issue sedan was the only car left at the site, but he didn't approach it. Instead, he approached her hiding place. He'd spotted her. 

When he finally arrived behind the crypt she used as her shield, she could barely look at him. She was embarrassed by her stealth. She was ashamed of her hand in Vaughn's death. Weiss had betrayed him, but she had been his downfall. 

"You shouldn't be here," he said.

"I needed to" There was no simple explanation.

"I've been assigned as your handler. At least temporarily." 

She looked shocked. 

"I'm not too thrilled about it either. Sydney, I'm a company man. Vaughn, he was a good man, an honest man, but he wasn't a company man. He couldn't check his emotions at the door. I can. I won't allow you to do anything that might jeopardize what we're trying to accomplish."

Sydney shook her head in mock agreement. She had no intention of working with Weiss or the CIA. Within the week she would disappear off the face of the earth.

"For what it's worth," Weiss said. "His feelings for you may have been inappropriate, but they were genuine. He would have followed you into Armageddon."

Sydney couldn't look at him. Instead her eyes rested on Vaughn's coffin. "He did." 

"Expect a meeting on Monday," he said coolly. "You still have your pager?" 

She nodded.

"555-4329 when you see that number, meet me at back of Cosgrove's market on Brighton Street. Mr. C is a former agency snitch, in a relocation program. You can slide right though the door in the produce department."

"Right." The thought of meeting Weiss at the back of a green grocery held no appeal. There would be no race in her pulse at his page. No bounce in her step as she approached him. In fact, he was a sad reminder of what she had lost. 

"I don't advise you paying your respects, Sydney. Anyone could be watching." He could see she was drawn to Vaughn's final resting place.

She turned away from him and began walking out towards the highway. She had left her car about a mile back. There were no parting words for Weiss; nothing could make its way passed the lump in her throat. 

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When she arrived back at her apartment Will was waiting for her. 

"You okay?" he asked, standing from his perch on the edge of the sofa. "Did you say goodbye?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't be seen. I said it from a distance."

"He meant something to you." Will acknowledged.

Sydney could not speak. She nodded; her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Will crossed the room to her and opened his arms. She slid into his protective hug and let her emotions cascade out. 

For several minutes they stood in silence, until Syd finally pulled away. Will had also been thought he ringer these past few days. He was still recuperating from the harrowing experience. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Getting my legs back beneath me," he said. "Nothing's the same anymore. I expect to wake up tomorrow and find out that the sky is really pink and the grass is violet."

Sydney sunk into the sofa. "You have to give it time." Before the last syllable had left her lips she realized she'd spoken her mother's words. Time for what? What would time have revealed to her that would make _anything_ better? 

"I've got a meeting with Devlin tomorrow morning. They're trying to figure out what to do with me." He sat down beside her, tentatively. "Syd, I don't want to go into relocation."

She took his hand. "And I don't want you dragged into this mess. Will, the alternative is making you a part of the CIA. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to give up normal life?"

He squeezed her fingers gently. "If I had you, I could manage it. At least we'd have each other. You didn't have that before. Best friends who share a very big secret."

Sydney wiped away the last of her tears. "I don't know if I can do it anymore, Will. You have no idea how deep this is. There are so many layers to this deception. Things I could never tell you, even if you sign up."

"I told you before," he said. "I won't ask you any questions. What you do it's so amazing. So selfless. If I could have even a small part of that it would be so much more rewarding that writing tripe for the paper. I could make a difference."

Sydney slid her head down onto his lap and closed her eyes. "I thought that once too."

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The next morning, Francie was on the phone with the realtor arranging a meeting to view a possible location for her restaurant. Sydney envied her ability to have such a normal goal. She wished she could be a part of seeing it to fruition, but she had made her mind up. Disappearing was her only option.

Syd was packing a bag. Francie watched with a cautious eye as she talked, her attention split between the agent and her departing friend. 

"Yeah, I'll hold," Francie said.

"Syd, you just got back. Where are they shipping you off to now?"

"Myanmar," she answered robotically. The art of lying washed away with Vaughn's future. She really was escaping to Mandalay. 

"Yes, I'm here," Francie said to the receiver. 

Sydney carefully packed a few extras in her bag. The photo of she and Jack, in the antique frame Vaughn and gifted her with at Christmas. How difficult it had been for him to open himself to her. How she regretted now giving him something in return. Ever. When she reflected on all the times she could have offered him the smallest gift. A smile, a hand, the promise of a hockey game. 

"Can you hold on a second?" she heard Francie ask the agent. "I've got another call." She clicked the button on the handset. "Hello?. You've got to be kidding me. Listen buddy, I'm on a very important call here. Why don't you order Chinese or Indian food instead? It's apparent that Joey has closed his doors, changed his number, he doesn't want you as a customer anymore." Click. "Sorry, Bryan so what time do you want me to meet you?"

The frame slid from Sydney's hands, crashing to the hardwood floor below. The glass cracked, but she didn't see it. Two words rang in her head over and over again.

Joey's Pizza.

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_I would greatly appreciate your R&R. I plan on continuing this into a long series. If you like where it's going, I will go forward with that plan, if I sense you're not happy with it, I'll scrap it. _


	2. Rinse

  


Title: Coming Up for Air 

Author : Alicia Donovan (aliciawrites, lularipley) 

E-mail: Alicia@isnt-it-romantic.net

Website URL: www.isnt-it-romantic.net

Feedback: Does Vaughn need air to survive? 

Distribution: Yes, you can archive this work, please email me and tell me the web address of your archival site.

Disclaimer: JJ, the rights are solely in your possession. I am but a flicker of light bouncing off the brilliance that is you (Of course if you kill off Vaughn I will hunt you down and make you scream like Will Tippin.) Alias is owned by ABC, Touchtone, is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions

Summary: After "30 Years". What happens to Syd and Mom? Does Vaughn survive? My answers are all right here. I plan on creating a series that will run throughout the summer. I apologize to those who have read my prior work. I neglected to tie up some loose ends because it became difficult for me after the "true" storyline began shifting. With this series and the summer hiatus, I think I will have plenty of time to do some world building. I hope you'll enjoy it. 

Rating: chapters will range from PG to NC-17

Classification: Action/ Adventure Angst Romance 

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**COMING UP FOR AIR**

**CHAPTER TWO:  
RINSE**

Location: Ngapali, Myanmar (Burma)

_and if she runs away she fears she won't be followed. What could be the worse than leaving something behind? And as the depth of oceans slowly become shallow, it's loneliness she finds... If only he was mineshe'd do anything to sparkle in his eye. She would suffer. She would fight, and compromise. She's been wishin' on the stars that shine so bright for answers to the questions that will haunt her tonight_

Syd peeled the headphones off as the waiter tapped her on the shoulder. She couldn't help but noticed that he was eyeing her up in her bikini. She cringed as she recollected how in the past she might use his attraction to her as an advantage in obtaining some trifle for SD-6. 

The amorous waiter handed her a glass of juice and bowed slightly. "Chèzùbè," Sydney thanked him in his native Burmese. She smiled a genuine smile at his obvious delight in her attempt to speak his language. 

As he walked away the words of the song played over in her head, though the headphones now lie in her lap. _As the depth of the oceans slowly become shallow, it's loneliness she finds_. She'd been in Myanmar for two weeks, and as much as she loved Will and Francie, there was only one person she missed in all that time. Sadly, she couldn't send him a postcard. She couldn't catch up with a quick e-mail. 

She watched the waves of the Andaman Sea lap up against the shore, safe on her deck chair, far from it's treacherous reach. Funny, that she chose to flee to a beach location. Water had been a tormentor to her. Even taking a shower made her uneasy these days. Yet here she was facing billions of gallons of water. Perhaps it was her own form of self-torture. She closed her eyes to block out the sound of the waves hitting the dunes. It reminded her, brutally, of the powerful water of the Circumference pounding against the doors of the lab. 

Vaughn's face was still clear. The moment he realized that there was no hope for himhe didn't plead with her for help. He knew his fate was sealed. She'd been close to drowning before and could not imagine how he had maintained such a reserved façade. 

They never found his body. Of course, she didn't expect them to. She and her father had been escorted to the airport at gunpoint, courtesy of her mother's henchmen. A week later, Jack tried to convince her to change her mind about her vanishing act.

They sat in the bar, side by side, never quite looking at one another. 

Jack cupped his hands around a half-full glass of bourbon. "Sydney, I beg you to reconsider. I can understand your apprehension about continuing now, but there's so much more to accomplish. Clearly, your mother had other plans or she would have never allowed us to leave. You must realize they involve you."

"So you'd have me stay and wait for her next calling card to arrive? How do you think she'll summon me then? Thankfully, I don't have a puppy or she'd be likely to whisk him away as a hostage to some international locale."

The joke backfired on her instantly as she thought about Donovan, Vaughn's dog. What had happened to him? Did his mother adopt him? Or Weiss? Did the adorable bulldog miss his master as much as she did?

"They closed the case on Vaughn. It's been two week's since the incident. They're confident the situation is not going to change."

"Situation?" Syd said, bitterly. "Are you referring to the situation where Michael Vaughn dies because of my maniacal mother, just like his father before him."

"Yes." Jack could not ignore the fact that Sydney's sarcasm was well deserved. 

Sydney tossed back some of the amber liquid. "So many times I've said it, 'I want out'. Well this time I'm not taking it back. I'm staying long enough to see him properly honored and then I'm leaving."

"You can't go to the funeral. What if Sloane has someone tailing you?" Jack asked.

Sydney raised an eyebrow. "Consider it my last act of espionage. I won't be seen."

"I" Jack hesitated. She realized how uncomfortable he was with this goodbye. "We'll maintain our standard SOS. If you need me, you know how to reach me."

She nodded. They had laid the groundwork on emergency contact procedures months ago. No running into daddy's arms for a tearful farewell. Business as usual. But then he did something that shocked her, more so even than seeing her mother take Khasinau's place as the Man. Jack rose from his barstool, bent down and kissed her cheek. "You're the bravest woman I've ever known, Sydney." He began to walk away, but then turned and added, "Actually, you're the bravest _person_ I've ever known. I respect you more than anyone." 

Sydney rose from her stool and before he could walk out of the bar, she was rushing into his awkward embrace. "I had a great role model," she said in a muffled voice against the breast of his woolen suit coat. She gave him one last tight squeeze and stepped away. 

Jack was without words. 

"I'll see you soon, Dad. Be careful." 

"Soon," he said, barely audible. Then he was gone. 

Sydney replaced the headset and sipped at her juice. Though she wished for the music to drown out her thoughts, she couldn't help but wonder how Jack was faring with Sloane. How had he taken her disappearance? Did he hold Jack responsible? Was Dad still frequenting the bar? And more importantly, she hoped he was still visiting Dr. Barnett. 

Barnett made her think of Weiss. Had he been disappointed she hadn't made her meeting with him? When the Joey's Pizza call had come, her heart stood still. But when only moments later her pager beeped with Weiss's requisite phone number, she realized he was using Vaughn's old code. Dead men didn't call for pizza. 

She had just settled back into her sun-drenched oblivion when the waiter tapped her on the shoulder again. She lifted her sunglasses and looked up at him with a mixed look of inquisition and perturbed irritation. 

"Slush-O," he said, pronouncing every letter, as he handed her what resembled a very large frozen daiquiri. 

"I didn't order" she began, but then his words filtered through. Slush-O. Dead men didn't drink Slush-O's either.

She snapped up from her prone position and looked hurriedly around the resort's private beach. Not a single familiar face. Not him. 

"You take," the waiter insisted, pushing the glass toward her.

She stood and faced the bewildered Burmese man. "Who ordered this?"

"Tall man," he motioned two feet above his own head. "American manlike pretty American guest." 

"Where?" she insisted. 

The waiter turned toward the bar station, but his face registered confusion. It was apparent that the customer had disappeared. 

"Is he a guest here?" She pulled at the man's shoulder, forcing him to face her again. 

His face scrunched up into a look of indecision. "I no see him before but he could stay at Ngapali Palace. I no sure." He was frustrated by his difficulty with the language and his inability to answer her questions. "You take," he said adamantly and pressed the glass into her hand.

Sydney took the frozen drink and the waiter departed. 

There was no stopping the direction of her thoughts. Though she wished she would not think things that would certainly end up causing her further pain. What if the Joey's Pizza call had not been from Weiss? What if Vaughn had somehow escaped drowning?

Sydney gathered a sarong around her waist and hurried to the bar. She placed the drink down and summoned the bartender. In her best Burmese, she asked, "Can you tell me what happened to the gentleman who ordered this drink?"

He twisted his head around until he had surveyed the entire beach area, then returned his gaze, at first confused, to Sydney. Within moments however, she could see the recollection in his eyes. He'd remembered something. "Gentleman was going to the lagoon. Said the waters calmed him."

Sydney's searched the distant shoreline but the lagoon was out of her immediate sight. "Thank you," she said, hurrying off down the strand. 

Several minutes later, she found herself closer to the secluded lagoon. As she approached, the fine hairs on her arms seem to stand straight. There was a man, sitting on a blanket about one hundred feet ahead of her. His back was to her. He was staring out at the horizon, his knees drawn up to his chest. His khaki pants were rolled up mid-calf and his feet were bare. The tropical shirt of muted, rather than garish, colors was unbuttoned and it blew back behind him in the warm breeze of the sea. As she got closer, she realized that his hair was brown, with hints of light where the sun had colored it. The California sun. 

Twenty feet between them now. 

She was frightened beyond belief to ask, to even allow herself to imagine that the impossible might be real. She had already played out in her head how her heart would twist when the man turned around to reveal himself a stranger. Sydney straightened her back with resolve. Certainly, she had tackled bigger interrogations, faced more formidable foes than her own psyche. There was only one way to get this over with

"A friend of mine had a passion for Slush-O's," she mused, but knew her words sounded desperate, not whimsical. 

The figure sat a bit straighter, as though intrigued, but not really surprised by the sound of her voice. He brushed unseen sand from his pant leg and began to turn towards her. "Pretty sorry life if the man's greatest passion was Slush-O's." 

Instantly it was as if Sydney herself were submerged in one hundred feet of water. She had to remind herself to breathe. Stumbling forward, she fell to her knees on the sand before him. Wordlessly, she reached her hands up to his face and felt the strong angular contours of his cheekbones. Her thumbs rubbing gently at his slightly parted lips. 

Vaughn took her right hand and pressed it harder to his mouth, kissing her palm gently.   
  
"Where?" she asked. "How?" 

He reached out and pulled her out of the uncomfortable sand, turning her slightly until she rested with her back to his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her own. "There's plenty of time for that," he said. "Watch." Vaughn pointed to the brilliant Asian sun, moving closer to it's nocturnal home beneath the distant horizon. 

Sydney marveled at the sight, but more so at the feel of Michael Vaughn's body pressed firmly against her own. He was alive. He was here with her. And they were closer than they had ever been. She caught his hands up within her own. Such familiar hands. Why hadn't she truly held them before?

"I thought I missed my chance to ever know what this felt like," she breathed. 

Vaughn rested his head on her shoulder and held her more tightly, never taking his eyes off the horizon. "It took me forever to find you."

"If I knew you were looking, I would have left a forwarding address," she said. "How _did _you find me?"

He pulled back slightly to look at her. "Well, after about one hundred Joey's Pizza calls Francine threatened to special delivery a pizza to a very private part of my anatomy. I got the hint _and _I realized that you were no where to be found, so I decided to pay her a visit." 

Sydney giggled. The sound surprised her. It seemed like years since she'd heard such happiness escape her lips. "You were at my apartment?"

He nodded and whispered against her ear. "It made me feel closer to you."

The erotic sound and sensation sent waves of some foreign passion through her. Vaughn's passion. 

Several moments passed and Sydney sobered, the awareness of what was happening slowly sinking in and becoming her new reality. "I thought you were dead," she said simply. The tone of her voice reminded her of what she must have sounded like as a little girl. Wondering when daddy was coming home for his long business trip. 

He turned her in his arms until he could see her plainly. "I know." The pain on his face was obvious. He'd been through hell and back. "I'm sorry to put you through that, Sydney. I don't want you to ever have to lose another friend to this horrible business. No patriotic duty putting an end to SD-6, seeing Sloane behind bars nothing can ever make up the amount of pain you've had to endure. I see that now." 

She was shocked by his words. Vaughn had always believed in the cause, the greater good. Something in his near-death experience had changed his perspective. 

"I didn't want to fight anymore," she sighed. "That's why I came to Burma, to just fade away." 

The tips of Vaughn's strong fingers grazed her chin, the slightest pressure lifting her head so that she met him eye to eye. "If you don't mind the intrusion. I'd like to fade with you for a while." 

Sydney smiled widely. "Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything," he agreed.

"Never," she said, grinning, "under any circumstances, go near the water." 

_  
Ok, that's part two. Thank you all SO MUCH for your wonderful words of encouragement. I'm planning some action/adventure in the next two chapters, plus a little somethin' somethin' for the shippers (like me) who want more than just hugging from Syd and Vaughn. I encourage any suggestions you might have too - I'd be happy to try and work in some ideas if I think they might mesh with my own. Even though this one came rather quickly, I won't guarantee you a chapter a day by any means. If this is going to last the summer, I need to pace myself! _ :)  



	3. Wishes

Title: Coming Up for Air 

Author : Alicia Donovan (aliciawrites, lularipley) 

E-mail: Alicia@isnt-it-romantic.net

Website URL: www.isnt-it-romantic.net

Feedback: Does Vaughn need air to survive? 

Distribution: Yes, you can archive this work, please email me and tell me the web address of your archival site.

Disclaimer: JJ, the rights are solely in your possession. I am but a flicker of light bouncing off the brilliance that is you (Of course if you kill off Vaughn I will hunt you down and make you scream like Will Tippin.) Alias is owned by ABC, Touchtone, is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions

Summary: Post ATY - Vaughn's back from the drink... but how has his experienced changed him? Will it affect his relationship with Syd? Count on it. 

Rating: chapters will range from PG to NC-17

Classification: Action/ Adventure Angst Romance 

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_Note: I know I said I would pace but darn it - this story is just begging to be told. So here it is! I've posted some links below after you've finished reading you might want to visit some of the places Syd and Vaughn saw along their journey. They are all real places in Yangon (Rangoon). I've never been to Burma, but I found the imagery inspiring. http://www.myanmar-tourism.com/ (Myanmar) http://www.myatmyanmar.net/cm/cm1.htm (The Pagoda) http://www.pansea.com/yangon.htm (The Pansea Hotel)_

  
**COMING UP FOR AIR**

**CHAPTER THREE:  
WISHES**

_Location: Yangon, Myanmar _

Between Syd's sudden aversion to the sea and the expressive beauty of the exotic land of Myanmar their decision to leave the beach had been an easy one. Vaughn had rented a jeep on his arrival, so the two of them hopped in it and drove up the coast toward the capital city of Yangon. Neither of them had ever been to Myanmar and for someone as well traveled as Sydney, a new locale was a rare occasion. Fading away meant finding a way to be normal. And what better way to be normal than to be a tourist. 

Vaughn drove along the coastline and Sydney enjoyed the foreign sense of freedom. She raised her arms above her head. The welcoming power of the warm salt air as her arms resisted against it and the frenzy of her unbound hair flying behind her made her feel momentarily invincible - like no round-house kick or semi-automatic weapon ever could. Or maybe it was the simple smile of the man at her side, enjoying the newfound freedom that gave her wings. 

"I've never seen you like this," he said loudly, laughing above the wind. "You look like you're sixteen." 

She smiled over at him. She felt like she was sixteen. After all, it was then that nothing stood in her way. She was only a girl with a boundless future ahead of her. She didn't know that life's little roadblocks would be more like mountains in her path. "Sixteen was a very good year," she joked.

"It was always just below the surface, you know," he told her. "I can't tell you how many times I saw flickers of this girl in youhiding." He reached over and grabbed her hand. With the exception of their reunion on the beach, Vaughn had not touched her. When his hand rested on hers, it was like their embrace at sunset had never really happened. A river of electrical currents swam through her body.

They had not yet talked about his miraculous escape. Although the agent in her demanded to know every detail, the woman was concerned only that the man was at her side. He promised her, tonight he would tell her everything. 

"Look!" she yelled, standing straight up in the jeep and pointing towards the sky. The peak of the Shwedagon Pagoda was emerging beyond the layers of greenery. The twenty five hundred year old golden structure was like a second sun resting on the surface of the Earth. 

"Shall we?" Vaughn asked, as eager to get a closer look at the impressive building as she. 

She nodded enthusiastically, but never left her stance, hanging onto the jeep's roll bar. 

As they walked around the remarkable pagoda, Sydney rattled off bits of information from the guidebook she had purchased from an accommodating street vendor. "Did you know that there are supposedly eight of Buddah's hairs inside there? Seventy-five hundred year old hairs. Do you think they're real?" 

Vaughn laughed. "I don't know if they're real, but I bet Sloane would pay a bundle for 'em. Do you think that place is as easy to break into as the Vatican?" 

Sydney continued her self-guided tour, nonplussed by Vaughn's mention of Sloane. "The lower stupa is plated with 8,688 solid gold bars, an upper part with another 13,153. The tip of the stupa, far too high for the human eye to discern in any detail, is set with 5448 diamonds, 2317 rubies, sapphires, and other gems, 1065 golden bells, and, at the very top, a single 76-carat diamond."

Vaughn whistled, dramatically. "How do you feel about mountain climbing?" 

Actually, she mused. "I'm more interested in the wishing stone." 

"Wishing stone?" he asked. 

"The book says that there is a wishing stone in one of the many shrines that surround the pagoda. Millions of Buddhists can't be wrong."

She grabbed his arm and began pulling him in the direction of the shrine, alternating her vision from the guidebook to the road ahead. 

"Is this like kissing the Blarney Stone?" He asked, dragging behind her in tow, as he feigned reluctance. "Because my Aunt Trish did that in 1972 and we haven't been able to shut her up since."

When they entered the shrine it was practically empty. "Slow day for wishes," he mused.

She punched him softly on the arm and moved forward toward the altar where the stone sat. The ancient reverence of the place began to overwhelm them both. There was no more joking. Sydney stared at the stone for several minutes. Finally, she took a deep breath, her shoulders back. 

"Okay," she said. "Here goes." Her eyes never leaving the stone, she reached a tentative hand out and placed it on its smooth timeworn surface. How many millions had done the same before her? Had their wishes come true? Was she too old, too world-wise to believe in wishes? So many of life's certainties had turned out to be false, why not allow something so uncertain the chance to be true. She closed her eyes hard and wished. 

When she opened them again, she smiled. Maybe Buddha would hear her. "Now you," she ordered Vaughn.

But when she turned to look at him, she was stunned by what she saw. He was deep in thought, his eyes tightly shut. His hand rested, not on the wishing stone, but within the warm confines of her own. She'd been so intent in her wish, she handed noticed it when he wrapped his fingers around hers. 

"Vaughn?" she whispered.

He opened his eyes and smiled. 

"Are you going to make a wish?" she asked.

"I just did," he said. "But I don't need a five thousand year old stone. I placed my life in your hands before I just figured my wishes would be safer there too." 

She had no words for him. In her mind, she had failed him miserably. Getting him into trouble with the CIA, risking his career, risking his life for her own crusade. He'd never signed on for what she'd asked of him. Yet, somehow, he wanted to be along for the ride. A ride she always thought she'd be taking alone. 

"We have a lot to talk about," she said.

He nodded and raised their joined hands between them. "Why don't we go get settled in the hotel and then we can talk over dinner?" The question was so normal, yet she knew what was most important didn't need to be spoken. "Let's go." 

_**Pansea Hotel, Yangon**_

"Okay," Vaughn said, rather sheepishly as he approached her in the hotel lobby. "I know this is going to sound like it's right out of Gable/Lombard movie, but there's only one room left. It's this or trying our luck at the Three Seasons in downtown Yangon. From what the concierge says, one less season is DEFINETLEY noticeable." 

He couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or suppressing a grin. "Gable and Colbert." 

"What?"

"Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable the movie you're thinking of is It Happened One Night. It's one of my favorites. If I remember right they share a bedroom and tie a sheet between the twin beds for privacy." 

It was the Bristow grin, undeniably. 

"One bed," he said, restraining a bourgeoning grin of his own. 

Trying her best too look logical, Sydney said, "Three seasons would definitely not be the same as four." 

"Definitely." 

"Lead on Mr. Gable."

Vaughn had never stayed at the Four Seasons, but he doubted it could compare to the paradise of the Pansea. Wooden floors of deep teak with matching widow seats and frames that opened out into the lush tropical greenery blended with the fine white linens and colorful silks in the room. In his minds eye he could never have envisioned a more perfect location to share with Sydney Bristow. He only hoped the paradise would not be lost after their talk. There was so much she was going to have to understand. So many old wounds he would be responsible for reopening. 

Sydney was marveling at the room. She immediately ran to the windows and threw them open to allow in the warm breeze of approaching evening and the smell of jasmine that floated up from the elaborate gardens just outside. 

"Can we stay here forever?" she asked, innocently. 

He could not lie to her. "What and miss out on those wishes we made?" 

She turned away from the view and faced him. "Did you wish to be somewhere else?"

"If I told you my wish," he said, as he approached her, "it won't come true." 

"But you wished on me." A smile crossed her lips that he swore hinted at provocative. "How can I make your wish come true if you don't tell me what it is?"

He pulled gently at a heavy strand of her silken brown hair. "I don't put anything passed you, Sydney Bristow. If there's a way, you'll manage it."

The air was heavy between them and it had nothing to do with the tropical humidity. The confidence that was indigenous to the woman before him was suddenly stripped away. The sixteen-year-old girl had returned. 

"I'm..uh it's been a really long day - the traveling and sightseeing. Do you think we could take a little nap before dinner?" she asked.

He nodded and pulled her toward the bed. Not in a million years did he imagine himself guiding Sydney to a bed for a nap. For other things, yes, his mind had certainly ventured into those uncharted territories a time or two but never for such innocence. 

She lay down on the crisp, cool linens. Her chestnut hair flowing out like a silken fan across the pillow. When he began to walk away, she called his name. She was sitting up, her hand reaching out for him. "I don't want you far from me," she admitted. 

_Never_, he said to her silently, as he walked back towards the bed.

"Sydney"

"Just lie down and rest with me." She asked for innocence. He wondered if he possibly had it in him. Between the secrets he held from her and the desire that swept through him, he felt like something much worse than a liar. But he wouldn't deny her. Not now. Soon enough she would deny him. It was inevitable.

The king size bed was inviting and offered luxurious amounts of room, but somehow their bodies drifted closer and closer together until they met in its center. They were only centimeters from touching. The feelings rushing through him were reminiscent of his childhood and first time he held a girl's hand or the first time he moved in for a kiss. He was a man in his thirties; certainly the act of raising his hand and draping it over her resting body shouldn't take so much effort. Yet his arm felt as if it weighed as much as twenty gold bars on the Shwedagon Pagoda. 

He did raise it up at last, until his hand was just hovering over her shoulder. The strap of her tank top had fallen lazily over it and his fingers itched to raise it for her. "Sydney," he said, barely a whisper. His hand finally finding a home on the tempting shoulder. 

"Mmmm?" she asked, dreamily. 

"I'm pretty sure sharing a bed would over-qualify us for Dr. Barrnett's game of inappropriate behaviors."

She snuggled up closer to him. Her bottom wiggling it's way innocently to his middle. It was a search for comfort, he forced himself to deduce, not passion. 

"I thought you weren't following their rules anymore," she said. This time her voiced registered a hint of seriousness mixed in with her levity. 

He wasn't. She was right. Only she didn't know how right she was. Of all the rules he'd broken lately, the one he was about to break scared him the most. His arm snaked around her waist and languished over her toned stomach, half exposed under the loose tank. The majority of his hand still rested over the cotton material, but some of it, _God help him_, some of it brushed against the taut skin of her abdomen. Any battle that he was waging against better judgment was quickly cast aside and he pushed the material further up her torso, feeling the burn of her skin full force against his palm. 

She sighed or was that a moan? Contentment or desire? 

She pulled his arm more securely around her, her fingers remaining to dance semi-circles over his forearm. His own fingers began their own dance, following her lead in circles across her middle, ever widening until he could feel the slight pressure of her breasts hovering just above his reach. The desperate desire to touch her more intimately was overwhelming him. He didn't think control was possible anymore. "Sydney," he begged, but he didn't know what for. 

She turned suddenly on her back and he followed until he was leaning over her, resting his weight on his elbow, his hand still resting on her stomach. There were tears in her eyes. The sight sent him reeling back, though he didn't move an inch. 

"For weeks all I could picture was you, behind that glass. That look in your eyes as you realized that there was no way out. Even as I tried in vain to break through, all you could do was insist that I get away. Why are you so selfless, Vaughn? And why am I so horribly selfish?" 

_Oh, don't do this, Sydney. You have no idea what your saying_. "When I was behind that door, with that wall of water gaining on me, I was the most selfish man in the world. All I wanted was you and all I knew in that moment was that you would never be mine."

"You wanted me?" she asked meekly.

"How can you not know that?" He smiled. "If Devlin, Jack, Weiss, Barrnett and that bastard Haladki could see it Sydney I was an open book with your name inscribed on every page." 

She thought about what he said for a moment, then reached up and ran her fingers along his chin, rough with two days growth. "If you haven't noticed, bad things happen to the men I let in." There was fathomless sadness in her eyes. 

"There's a difference between them and me, Syd." She gave him a look that begged him to continue. "I'm the only one who knew it all and loved you because of it - not in spite of it."

Her breath caught. "Loved?" 

He nodded. He was evil. He had no conscience. But he'd been through too much, waited to long to let her go now. He'd find a way to make her see. In the end, she would understand and this would be their beginning. That's what he told himself. That's what he had to tell himself to love her. 

"Love me," she asked, softly, raising her body up until her lips were just inches from his. "Love me, Vaughn."

  
_Well, that will do it for part three. Here's the plan guys Some of you have asked me to keep it relatively clean. I write ROMANCE novels, so I have to tell ya, I have a tendency to push the envelope with my love scenes. Now that said - I thought MAYBE what I'd do here is post a separate scene to fill you in on the action that takes place next and start Chapter Four with what happens in the aftermath of love making. Let me know what you think of that idea. Chapter Four is all about action and angst. As you can tell, Vaughn's got something he's hiding and it ain't good!_


	4. The Ghost in You

Title: Coming Up for Air 

Author : Alicia Donovan (aliciawrites, lularipley) 

E-mail: Alicia@isnt-it-romantic.net

Website URL: www.isnt-it-romantic.net

Feedback: Does Vaughn need air to survive? 

Distribution: Yes, you can archive this work, please email me and tell me the web address of your archival site.

Disclaimer: JJ, the rights are solely in your possession. I am but a flicker of light bouncing off the brilliance that is you (Of course if you kill off Vaughn I will hunt you down and make you scream like Will Tippin.) Alias is owned by ABC, Touchtone, is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions

Summary: Post ATY - Vaughn's back from the drink... but how has his experienced changed him? Will it affect his relationship with Syd? Count on it. 

Rating: chapters will range from PG to R.

Classification: Action/ Adventure Angst Romance 

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**COMING UP FOR AIR**

**CHAPTER FOUR:  
THE GHOST IN YOU**

_Location: Pansea Hotel, Yangon, Myanmar_

He was so close to making the biggest mistake of his life. Sydney was a breath away from being his and he couldn't do it. If their relationship was built on anything, it was trust. Any deception from him and it would tarnish everything they had built over the past year. 

He rolled away from her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He knew she would have questions, but he wasn't prepared for the humiliation in her voice. 

"It's too soon," she justified. "I shouldn't have pressed you into a situation like this. I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned abruptly. "Stop that! Damn it, Sydney. You're not making this any easier. Don't you get it? One month ago, what I just held in my hands was what I wanted more than anything in the world. But"

"But?" she asked, meekly.

"Things have changed." He stood and walked the length of the room, trying to clear his head and his libido. His mind couldn't focus on what he had to tell her when she was lying so close to him on that bed. "Look, I don't know exactly what happened between you and Noah Hicks, but I'm pretty savvy for desk jockey."

"Vaughn." Her tone told him she didn't appreciate him degrading his position. "What happened with Noah, it was a mistake, a-"

"Exactly, a mistake. I don't fault you on what happened there, he was deceptive. He used you." Vaughn raised his hands to his temples and wondered how he had acquired a headache so quickly. "Sydney, I don't want to be like Noah."

She stood and crossed to him, obviously concerned with the pained look on his face. "You could never be like him."

He put his hands up to distance her from him, as if his deception was some contagious disease she might catch. "That's where you're wrong. I was just about to we were going to and there are things that you don't know. Things that might change your opinion of me." 

She shook her head. "The man I know... the man who's risked reputation and life to follow me who spends his every day searching for a way to stop evil men like Arvin Sloanethere's nothing you can say that would make me change the way I look at him." She reached up and ran her fingertips over his throbbing temple. "He's my guardian angel."

"Stop!" He pulled away. "I want thatI want to be all those things you see. But when I tell you what I've learned these past few weekswhen I tell you where I've been I don't know if you'll be able to say the same thing."

She stood in front of him, steadfastly, her arms at her sides, her face a blank canvas. "Tell me. Whatever it is, Vaughn, I know you've stood beside me through worse. I'm not going anywhere." 

"All right, it's time, but not here." He opened the hotel room door. "C'mon, let's go talk somewhere without a bed in it. A place that doesn't make me question my sanity every five seconds."

She smiled so sweetly it pained him. He couldn't help but wonder if it she would ever offer him the like again. 

Sydney was just about to follow Vaughn out into the lush garden of the Pansea Hotel, when a figured entered the doorway in front of them, stopping their departure from the room.

"Agent Vaughn," said Sark. "My employer grows weary of waiting on you. She's sent me to tell you your time is up. You'll be returning with me both of you."

Sydney automatically took a defensive stance behind Vaughn. She was not going anywhere with Sark. She certainly wasn't going to let him shanghais them to her mother's latest lair. "My mother underestimated us if all she sent was you to bring us back."

Sark's eyes went immediately to Vaughn. "You haven't told her yet?" A smirk crossed his lips. 

"I was just about to," Vaughn answered in a defeated tone. 

"Vaughn?" Syd asked.

"No matter," Sark said. "You'll have plenty of time to talk on the flight to Los Angeles." 

No, she wasn't going back to LA. It had taken her weeks to finally separate herself from that life...to separate herself from that business. 

Vaughn turned to her, his eyes filled with a request for understanding. But she had none. What did he want her to do? Follow Sark? Was this some kind of operation? Perhaps he had infiltrated her mother's ranks and was working it from this inside, waiting for back up to bring the plan to fruition. Was she his back up?

"I need more time," Vaughn told Sark. 

Sark pulled his gun back, clicking the safety into place. "We leave in twenty minutes. Whatever must be discussed, will be of that length or less or it will go unsaid until we are in the air. Do you understand?"

Sark was giving in? Why was everything suddenly making no sense at all? Surely if he left them alone in the room they could devise an escape plan. He was smarter than that, she was sure of it.

"Thank you," Vaughn said, nodded his head and slowly closed the door. "Sydney"

She waved her hands in the air as if to silence his apologies. "We have twenty minutes. Start talking."

..

_**Taipei**_

His lungs burned, his chest rattled convulsively with every breath - but there was breath. He was breathing. He was alive. His hands were tired behind his back and he was lying face first on a very thin mattress on a cold stone floor. 

He twisted his aching body until he could get a better view at his surroundings. Nothing but damp rock and cement and a flimsy looking wooden door with an aged lock. If he had been in prime shape and unbound, it would have fallen quickly with small effort. As it was, he could barely sit upright. 

Breaths were deeper now. Controlled coughing was expelling some of the wretched fluid from his lungs. His back was propped against the stone wall, facing the door, waiting for the inevitable. 

And it came the rattle of the handle, the turn of the lock. The shadow of a petite figure crossed the room. A tray in her hands. Some kind of oriental servant? 

"I'm glad to see you're awake, Agent Vaughn," she said. "I was worried it might take you longer to recuperate." 

Her voice was somewhat familiar, an Eastern European accent, hints of Americanized Russian. "Who are you?"

She stepped closer and crouched to the ground a few feet in front of him, placing the tray on the floor. "I have many names," she said, "but you may call me Laura." 

He was stunned by the woman before him. She was the image of Sydney, an older, harder Sydney. There was no play of softness in her features, where there should have been laugh lines, her face held creases that sloped downward. Even in his condition, he had no doubt of her identity. "Laura Bristow." 

She smiled and it struck him hard. If he had not known of the evil she had propagated on him and his family, he would have been warmed by that familiar grin. He craved it more than a soft bed, a hot meal and a bottle of chardonnay. 

Physically shaking the feeling of comfort that radiated from her from his mind, he sat taller. This woman was responsible for his worst nightmare. She killed someone he loved and"Where's Sydney?" he demanded.

"Her father is seeing her safely home. It's not time for she and I to join our efforts just yet. First, I thought you and I would get to know each other better." 

Vaughn turned away. "I know everything I need to know about you."

Laura reached out to him and gently tugged at his chin, asking him to look at her. He refused. "Agent Vaughn, what you know about me is only what they _allow_ you to know about me."

She had his attention, his eyes snapped to her. "_Allow_?"

"Don't you find it the least bit odd that Devlin assigned you as Sydney's handler when he knew full well that your father had been my- I'm getting ahead of myself. Suffice to say, your employers have given you only the most basic of truths. Over the next few days I will give you every comprehensive detail."

He stared at her hard. Trying desperately to see the woman he had hated most of his life in the eyes that looked remarkably like the woman he loved. "There is only one detail I care about, Laura, the fact that you murdered my father."

His words affected her. He could see her eyes cloud over with some emotion - grief, remorse, he wasn't sure. "We will talk after you've eaten. I'm going to untie you, but I warn you that there are guards outside your door. I don't wish to treat you like a prisoner, Michael. In time, I think you will find yourself more comfortable as a guest here."

She reached behind him and quickly slid a knife across the ropes. His hands released, he was finally free to put them around the neck of the woman who had been the bane of his existence. But he didn't move. The revenge inside battled so fiercely with the familiar tug at his soul he could not move. 

"Good." She smiled. The food is hot. And the tea will help your chest heal. We'll talk more in the morning." 

As she was leaving he heard her tell the guards to have comfortable bedding brought in. Had he never known of her vice, he would have thought her kind and considerate, a charming hostess. 

The next morning the two Asian guards entered at sunrise and pulled him to his feet. Their countenances void of any emotion, he wondered if he was headed to meet his fate. They tossed him into the back of a van and drove for a half hour or more before stopping. When he exited he was shocked to see they had left the teeming city of Taipei. Their surroundings were green and tropical. There was only one building of bamboo construction in his line of sight and the guards drew him closer to it. When they entered they immediately took him to a room in the back of the structure. A bedroom, complete with full sized four-poster bed, washstand and a selection of clean clothes. 

Though he despised his hostess, he was eager for some semblance of comfort. When his escorts left he washed spot washed himself with the clean water and shed the now tattered leather for Dockers and a loose golf shirt. They fit remarkably well.

Several hours later the door pulled aside and she entered. "You look well rested. Are you breathing easier this morning?"

He nodded curtly. 

"I have a story to tell you, Michael. Will you hear it out?" she asked.

"Do I have a choice?" 

She smiled again. How he hated when she did that. "No, I'm afraid not. May I?" She motioned to the bed and he nodded an agreement that she may sit. He remained standing at its foot.

"As I eluded to yesterday, the stories you have been told about me have been incomplete. The fact of the matter is, Agent Vaughn, that I was undercover KGB intelligence. What you do not know, is that I was also CIA intelligence."

"You were a double agent," he said blandly. "You expect me to believe you were working for the CIA. Why wouldn't your husband, a CIA operative himself, have known? Why would you have killed my father, a colleague? Your story is full of holes lady." 

She patted the mattress next to her. "Please, sit. You look very uncomfortable."

He didn't know why, but he sat. 

"Jack was a double agent attempting to bring about the demise of SD-6. I was a double agent with a similar agenda, but my goal was disabling the KGB. You see, being an American mother and wife, I gain some persuasive perspective on your country. Every day I would see atrocities performed by my countrymen, while men like Jack Bristow struggled to maintain a land of freedom. Our missions had to remain separate or our efforts would have become futile."

Vaughn looked away. It was a lovely, patriotic story, but she was a teacher of literature - she knew how to spin a tale. 

"When I entered the CIA," she said, "it was your father who took my statement."

His father? This had his attention. If he listened hard, this is where he would find the error in her storytelling. He knew as much as a son of an intelligence operative could possibly know about his father. 

"Devlin later had him assigned as my handler," she continued.

Her handler? The familiarly of the situation beckoned to him, but he didn't want to believe. He couldn't believe. 

"I have proof. Your father kept a journal. There are entries in this journal in which he refers to the savant. Here he is referencing Milo Rimbaldi. You may have also seen references to Solie-Luna. It was my codename - Italian for the sun and moon. The KGB had amassed a large collection of the artifacts and it was my job to retrieve them, one by one. Sadly, I believe it was through me that Arvin Sloane unearthed the information and adopted his own obsession with the illustrious Italian."

He had not spoken. He had not even thought of words to utter. The information she was providing was valid. He had memorized the diary, just as he had memorized every word Sydney had ever spoken to him. Things he had long ago dismissed as indecipherable were suddenly making more sense than anything he had ever read. 

"Michael." She reached out across the mattress, but did not attempt to touch him. "For hundreds of years the armies and intelligence of every civilization have been attempting to harness Rimbaldi's formula. There is only one that can see it through - any other will annihilate their own people in the try. This is not for KGB, K-Directorate, SD-6, FTL, United Statesit is for all humankind. I am not evil. Though I've had to use unfortunate tactics, the result I seek is universal peace."

She stood then and faced him. "I know this is much to accept and there is much more for us to discuss, but I feel you must take some time to absorb what you've learned. I'll return and answer any questions you may have." She walked to the door and before she slid it shut she added, with a smile, "Oh, and I'll have lunch brought to you shortly. You must be starving!"

No wonder Sydney struggled so hard with the truth about her mother. He was struggling and he'd only known her a day. Could it be possible that the woman truly was on a quest for peace? That she had honestly been the devoted mother and wife, but opted for a noble path? The facts he knew about The Man were hard to reconcile, yet when taking a closer look, it was clear that she had tried to use acceptable rather than deadly force whenever possible. 

"And my father?" he asked her that evening over a shared meal. "Were you responsible for his death?"

She bowed her head over the fried rice dish. "Yes, but not in the manner they have told you. That mission was dangerous. I was after the prophecy document and the road to it had been laden with traps. I knew that my chances of survival were minimal, I'd even had Devlin and Billyour dad write out a plan to explain Laura's untimely death."

Laura raised her wine glass to her lips and took a short sip. "Your father was a brave man and a smart man. He refused to sit idly by, even though his superiors insisted that he follow protocol, he followed me instead.

I'll admit things did run more smoothly with him at my side. The document was ours and we were just seconds from our rendezvous, but it seems we had underestimated the strength of the KGB. There was a second unit. We had no information on themthey appeared from nowhere. Your father was hit in the crossfire. I survived. 

The CIA later decided that I had turned traitorthat's when Khasinau helped me flee. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, leaving Sydney and Jack behind." 

..

_**Pansea Hotel**_

"A fairy tale," Sydney said bitterly. "She was always good at telling fairy tales."

Vaughn sat down next to her on the hotel bed. "What if it's true? When Jack told you about your mother, every feeling in you revolted. You couldn't reconcile the fact that the woman you had known could possible be the woman responsible for all that evil. You're instincts have always been your best ally maybe it's time to trust them when it counts most."

"She's brainwashed you."

"No." He took her hand. "I've never been more sure. There's more, more that" He looked at his watch. "More that I don't have time to tell you now, but I will. When you hear it all, you'll see what I see. She needs you, Sydney. I need you."

"You?" she asked, confused.

"Don't let my father's death be a lie. Don't let them control us. Sydney, don't you think it's the least bit strange that the CIA allowed me, the son of the man your mother supposedly shot become your handler? They planned it all. They've been orchestrating our every move."

That much she believed. Even if everything Vaughn had said about her mother was false, the fact of the matter was, the CIA had been keeping secrets from them for a long time. 

"I'll go to LA," she agreed. "But I won't promise you any more than that."

"Sydney it was never my intention to keep the truth from you. I just didn't know how to tell you and seeing you againfor a few days, I didn't care about any of this mess. Just you."

She couldn't look at him. She didn't know what she wanted from him. She didn't know if she could trust him anymore. "I wish you'd never found me."

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